Fall and fade
by partyyyyyy
Summary: Tony Stark hates sleep for obvious reasons. Steve Rogers stumbles upon a bad episode and tries to help. Originally posted at Ao3.


Another crappy piece :) Constructive criticisms please!

Tony had been on an engineering bender for four days on end. His hands had begun to tremble approximately two days ago, his vision hazy and his breathing laboured. His make up, used to conceal his lack of sleep and gradual loss of sanity from his teammates if he were to run into them, was smeared messily on his face by sweat and tears, revealing the dark, heavy bags hanging under his eyes and the frighteningly white pallor of his skin. Still, he persevered, evading sleep like it was the plague.

Unfortunately for Tony, he can only deny his body its biological needs for so long. After all, even a genius brain needs rest for thoughts to be organised and revolutionary technology to be invented.

His teammates haven't seen him in over a week. It wasn't intentional, this isolation, but he really really appreciated (needed) the solidarity when he was working.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered close, head dipping forward to rest on his metal work bench gently.

Howard Stark stood tall before him, arms crossed with an irate face. He was holding a bottle of liquor, brown in colour. Whiskey, Tony immediately identified.

He stood very, very still, hoping his father wouldn't spot him in fear of the consequences.

Tony didn't know why he bothered, because he knew Howard had always been extremely skilled at hide and seek. Needless to say, he found him.

Howard forced Tony's mouth open, pouring the whiskey into Tony's mouth despite Tony's weak protests. Abruptly, figures of Howard, all identical, started approaching him with bottles of whiskey in their hands, chanting "Stark men are made of iron, Stark men are made of iron, Stark men are made of iron" in increasing volume while Tony was choking on the whiskey.

"Dad, I can't breathe!" He tried, but his voice was drowned out by the chanting and muffled by the endless stream of whiskey.

Somehow, his dad seemed to have heard him, for he suddenly grew significantly angrier, then roared, "You are a disgrace to the Stark family!"

All the Howards in the vicinity began pouring the whiskey on Tony then. The Howard roaring threw the empty glass in his face.

Tony screamed for air, drowning in whiskey as vulgar slurs were hurled by figures of his dad.

Only to feel his heart being electrocuted as lashes landed on his back at a merciless speed. He tried to feel for his heart, seeking for the reassurance the cool metal provides.

Except, he was suddenly paralysed and he couldn't move his hands, or his feet.

There was a towel shoved in his mouth as icy water poured from above his head, wave after wave after wave as he choked, completely at the mercy of his captors.

Faintly, he could hear the distorted voices of his captors, their voice echoing throughout the dark cave. "Do you know how many innocent people died under your hands and your weapons?" a chuckle. "Build us the Jericho! Build us the Jericho!"

Tony shook his head as adamantly as he could in his position, refusing to relent to his captors despite how "persuasive" they were being.

Blood poured out from his back as water poured from above his head. He could feel his heart palpitating in an inhuman pace, as if he was having a heart attack.

He lifted his arm, miraculously freed, to reach for his reactor…

Only to find there is nothing there.

Blood started dripping onto his chest. He looked up to find Obadiah, Obie, smiling with a sadistic smirk on his face holding his heart in one hand, the reactor in another, squeezing them both as his heart crumbled to a mush of blood and flesh and his reactor crumbled to broken and bent metal pieces, the blue light going out and plunging the room into darkness.

Suddenly, he felt something big and thick enter his behind without any preparation, a thick, callous hand with blood coating with pieces of metal embedded in it on his own dick as he was forcefully brought to orgasm.

The thickness behind him began to inflate, growing and growing as the pain behind him seared as if he was being sitting on fire. Then, it began to thrust at a punishing speed, heedless of the pleading cries Tony made.

"Always been a whore, haven't you? You were made for this Stark. Look at you, crying in pleasure. I have trained you to be a good slut. Oh well, fifteen years of training to bend over at any given time will do this. For me, and only me." a sinister voice whispered behind him, breath ghosting over his ears.

Countless hands stretched out from seemingly nowhere and began to roam all over his body, touching places he did not want them to. Crimson liquid began to seep from his behind, forming a slow stream at first. Then, it started gushing out like a waterfall. Tony screamed to drown out Obie's distorted voice and the sound of blood pouring from his behind.

After what seemed like an eternity, the blood receded, only to reveal wreckage of what seemed like New York. Every single one of his teammates laid dead and Cap's vibranium shield broke in half.

"You, Stark, have failed. This is your end, and everyone lying dead here is all because of you and your incompetence…" Ulton's distorted voice echoed throughout the battlefield, growing louder and louder until it became a tumultuous roar, drowning out every other noise…

Tony awoke with a startled scream, tears and sweat pooling at the table, limbs flailing about and hitting a wrench, sending it hurling through the air and hitting the floor with a loud clang.

Faintly, he heard FRIDAY's whisperings filter through the commotion.

"Sir, it is 2:17 in the morning. It is March 16th, Thursday. The weather is -"

"Thanks Fri, got it." Tony rasped, massaging the hand that hit the wrench tenderly. Sighing, he got up, then went to his drawer and opened it, retrieving a small pill bottle and took two in his hand. Then he twisted the cap back on and placed it in his drawer, shutting it with a listless shove.

Breathing still laboured and hands still trembling, Tony went to the elevator and had it take him to the communal level. Nobody would be awake at this hour anyway, so it would be okay for him to go there.

He stepped out of the elevator, then shakily made his way to the kitchen sink. With trembling hands, he filled himself a glass of water, and with great effort, moved the half filled glass of water to his lips then swallowed the pills. Immediately after that, his hands shook with exertion and the cup with the remaining water fell into the sink clumsily, clattering loudly as it hit the steel sink.

Tony turned around, and with his head in his hands, slowly slid down the kitchen counter with his arms folded on top of his knees.

Suddenly, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Slowly, he lifted his head to come face to face with none other than good old righteous Captain America.

Steve Rogers was crouched in front of him, hand outstretched and a concerned look on his face.

"Tony, are you alright? Why are you on the floor?"

Tony's hands trembled slightly as he lifted them to knead his eyes, then let out a loud exhale. Normally, he would tell Steve to fuck off, but at the moment, he simply could not be bothered to. Instead, he simply leaned back against the kitchen counter.

Steve took in his appearance: dark, heavy bags hanging under his eyes, sallow face and thin figure, ribs easily visible from under his shirt, trembling hands and slightly laboured breathing.

"Cap, I'm okay. Just need a few minutes to myself, then I'll be on my merry way." he slurred, thanks to the drugs, hands combing through his greasy hair, then plastering on painfully bright but artificial smile and looked at Steve.

Steve frowned, unconvinced. Slowly, he took Tony's hand in his and helped him up, making him lean against the kitchen counter standing despite Tony's weak protests. Then he lifted Tony in his arms, and carried him bridal style all the way back to his room. By that time, Tony had already been pulled under by exhaustion.

Steve sighed as he looked at the overworked engineer, running his hands through Tony's hair and smoothing out the greasy curls. Steve tugged the blanket higher up under his chin, then placed a gentle kiss on the man's forehead, before pulling a chair from the nearby study desk to Tony's bedside to watch over him.

Hours later, Steve woke to Tony's hazel eyes wide open staring deeply into him. He let out a startled gasp as he sat up, then proceeded to look at Tony's appearance. The black bags beneath his eyes had faded slightly, and he looked better rested. Now, Tony needed food, before he pulled the disappearing act and hid in his workshop until he collapses of exhaustion. Again.

"Hey, Tony. you need to get some food in you before you head to the workshop again alright? What do you want?" Steve asked cheerily, hoping he could persuade Tony to get some food.

Tony blinked owlishly, his face simply remaining impassive as he rolled over and stared at the wall opposite him mutely, dull hazel eyes staring out into nothingness.

Steve sat confused, wondering why Tony was mad at him briefly. But he knew, if Tony decided to ignore him, that he would not be able to get the man to talk to him as it was against his will. So he got up and left the room silently, walking to the kitchen to make the man his favourite - a cheeseburger, hoping Tony would eat that.

He pulled out the relevant ingredients from the fridge and began heating the pans. Before long, four appealing cheeseburgers sat on the plate he laid out. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, then began tidying the kitchen and washing the utensils he used.

Steve re-evaluated his short interaction with Tony since early that morning, when he found him burying his head into his knees leaning against the kitchen counter. It was not abnormal for Tony to be awake at such an early hour, but he had never seen Tony's face in such a state before. The usual Tony was very composed, a bright smile plastered on his face as he bantered with the team. The Tony he saw last night looked overworked and sleep deprived, eyes haunted and filled with sorrow and an unexplainable darkness that threatened to consume Steve even when he only looked at him for a few fleeting seconds.

The more Steve thought about their short interaction, the more uneasy and worried he felt as he had never seen Tony in such a state before.

"Friday, is Tony mad at me? Did I do anything that might have angered him?" Steve asked as he was drying off the final pans.

"No, Captain. Sir is… unwell. Sometimes, when he goes to bed, he refuses to get off the bed, but he doesn't go back to sleep. He refuses to take a shower, refuses to eat and refuses to talk to anyone. He simply lays there, for a couple of days, claiming nothing is wrong and he is "just tired". He would emerge days later, sometimes a week later, pretending as if nothing had ever happened and he was just hiding away in his workshop as usual when in truth, he was incapaciatated, so to speak. But I do not understand why he is this way."

"But I have never seen him like that, especially not that sleep deprived and worn down. Did something happen recently? Or has he always been like that?"

"Captain, I'm afraid Sir has always been like that. Maybe you never noticed because he puts on a lot of make up every time he goes to the communal floor to see any of you. Per Ms Potts' order, Sir has multiple bottles of medication to help him sleep, but he refuses to take any of them unless he absolutely needs to. He claims Ms Potts is creating a huge fuss when there is nothing to worry about, and that he has no need of those pills."

Steve stayed silent as he took in the information Friday just told him. Something about this situation sounds vaguely familiar to him, but he could not pinpoint what it was.

Shaking off his thoughts and composing himself, Steve carried the now-warm cheeseburgers back to Tony's room, walked to the side of the bed which Tony was facing, and knelt down in front of him.

"Tony?" Steve tried, waving his hands in front of Tony's eyes.

Tony simply blinked, eyes hazy and unseeing. He didn't even bother to turn his face to directly address Steve.

"Tony, you need to eat. It's not healthy for you to go on engineering benders for days on end without eating anything in the process, alright? Here, I made you your favourite - cheeseburgers! I think you'll like them … Tony? Are you even listening?"

Tony rolled over in response, back facing the Captain and his cheeseburgers.

Sighing, Steve placed the cheeseburgers on the side table nearby, then quietly exited the room.

Over the next few days, Steve brought Tony breakfast, lunch and dinner, only to find that the food he made was never consumed.

Every time Steve visited, Tony would act the same way - blink confusedly at him with depths of despair in his eyes that threatens to swallow him whole, then roll over to face the other side.

Still, Steve brought him food, placed the new tray at his bedside, collected the old tray, untouched, then left the room silently.

He was working out in the gym, when it suddenly hit him - the reason Tony;s behaviour was so familiar to him was because his mom used to do that! She would lie on her bed for hours on end, not eating, nor sleeping. After a week or so, she would get up, fold the sheets, and act as if something had never happened.

They said she was depressed.

"Friday?"

"Yes, Captain? How may I be of service?"

"Is Tony depressed?"

His question was met with silence. He could hear his laboured breathing and the distant ticking of the clock.

"Yes, sir, I believe so. Along with that, his therapist also mentioned he has post traumatic stress disorder."

"Thank you Friday."

"No problem, Captain Rogers. Also, sir has just gotten up and headed to his workshop."

With that, Steve dashed off and took a quick shower, then made Tony a cup of coffee. Then, he made his way to the workshop.

"Sir, Captain Rogers is requesting access."

Tony sighed in resignation, then told Friday to let Steve in, knowing what is to come.

"Tony! Are you okay?"

Steve asked immediately as he stepped into Tony's workshop. The man in front of him looked much better, so much so it seemed impossible.

"I'm fine, Steve. Thank you so much for asking. How can I help - ooh, is that coffee you're holding? I will take that, thank you very much."

As he stepped forward, Steve grasped Tony's hand tightly, then rubbed his own hands under Tony's eyes. The concealer smudged and revealed the dark, heavy bags beneath his eyes and the sickly pallor of his face.

Immediately after that, Steve released Tony's hand.

Silence hung heavy in the workshop.

It was Steve that broke the silence.

"Tony, I know what you're going through. Friday told me."

"Yeah, Steve? Now that you've seen my weakness, I need you to leave me the hell alone! I can handle my own shit, so mind your own fucking business! Leave my workshop, now!"

"Tony, you're not alone in this! Let me help you, alright? Look, my mom was depressed, so I know how it is for you. Let me help you!"

"You do not! You don't know what it's like for me! You don't!"

"You're right, I don't know what it's like for you to the full extent, but let me try, okay? Did you think waking up 70 years later did not take a toll on me? I know it's not the same, but I can relate-"

"You CANNOT! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE BEATEN BY YOUR FATHER! TO HAVE YOUR FATHER HATE YOU FOR BEING YOU! TO BE R-RAPED BY THE PERSON YOU TRUSTED MOST FOR FIFTEEN FUCKING YEARS! TO BE W- WATERBOARDED AND WHIPPED BECAUSE YOU WOULD NOT BUILD WEAPONS FOR T-TERRORISTS!"

Tony shrieked as tears began to slide down his face, taking with it some of the make up. He took in a big breath of air, then continued.

"T-TO HAVE SHRAPNEL S-STUCK IN YOUR HEART, AND, AND HAVE TO DEPEND ON A CH-CHUNK OF METAL FOR YOUR LIFE! T-TO HAVE THE PERSON YOU TRUSTED THE MOST BETRAY YOU IN THE C-CRUELEST WAY POSSIBLE! T-TO WATCH YOU ALL DIE B-BECAUSE OF ME! OF ME!"

Tony sobbed loudly as he ranted, hands flailing in the air.

Once again, silence hung heavy in the room.

"You're right, Tony. I don't. But I know you cannot do this alone. Let me help you. I may not fully understand, but I want to help you. I'm here for you. Please, you cannot do this alone."

Steve walked over and enveloped the sobbing man in a hug as Tony slid to the floor , patting his back gently as the man cried into his shirt, whispering sweet reassurances in his ear.

Steve made good on his promise and looked after Tony. He made sure he ate and showered as much as he could when Tony's undergoing a depressive episode, helped him through his panic attacks, and watched him sleep, at Tony's request, when he was running from his nightmares. All in all, he was there for Tony when he needed him.

Things got better, Steve thinks, for Tony.

He could never make things go away, but at least he was there for Tony when he needed him, like he promised. And he will continue to be.

That's it for now. Constructive criticisms please!


End file.
